


The Circle [ðə ˈsəː(r)kl]

by MsPandora



Category: The Circle - Dave Eggers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dystopia, Gen, Illustrations, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Psychological Horror, Science Fiction, Short Story, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:27:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPandora/pseuds/MsPandora
Summary: This is my first ever written story in English, which came to be thanks to a creative writing exercise in literature class. The task was to read the beginning of the novel "The Circle" and then continue the story ourselves. Let me stress that this is not canon compliant at all, as we have really only read the first pages.Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading this.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	The Circle [ðə ˈsəː(r)kl]

* * *

**Chapter ???  
**

* * *

_"Enlightenment"_

_[en_ _ˈ_ _l_ _ī_ _tnm_ _ə_ _nt]_

_[sato_ _ɽ_ _i]_

* * *

A bright light was shining through the white curtains while Mae opened her sleepy eyes softly.

After she stood up from her four-poster bed and yawned one last time, the young woman headed towards the large panorama window to her left, pushed the curtains away and was instantly greeted by the marvellous morning sun that sat enthroned right behind the gorgeous tall tower of _The Circle_ in the distance. Higher than any other building, higher than Mae's apartment from where she could overlook her hometown. Even those fluffy dark blue clouds that floated across the lovely yellow sky supported her good mood.

_Another day in paradise,_ she thought, still dreamy as she smiled to herself.

At the breakfast table where she was eating toast with strawberry jam while drinking milky coffee, Mae used her phone to scroll down a fashion catalog of a new store that had opened recently. Filled with giddy excitement, she started to create plans in her head for a shopping tour after work. Before Mae went to dress up, she took one last delightful bite of her toast.

While she was searching for the right suit in her large and wide closet, the TV behind her was broadcasting news. Even though it was rather just white noise to Mae, it really got her attention when the reporter mentioned, "Another group of protesters is gathering around the main entrance of the famous Internet company _The Circle,_ yelling parols like, _'Right for privacy, privacy in the Internet...'_ "

Some live footages were shown where people were holding cardboard posters with wildly scribbled messages. They screamed and screamed, rambled and rambled; none of their words made sense to Mae as if they were talking in a strange language, yes, they almost sounded like babies making incomprehensible noises.

Shaking her head in disbelief, a _feeling_ resounded deep inside her, one she had been carrying with her for God knows how long, stronger than annoyance, stronger than frustration: pure and true _disgust._ Eventually, Mae turned the TV off.

She sighed in relief as her dizziness dissipated.

Now with her black fancy suit and her professional-looking briefcase, Mae was ready to go to her workplace.

Right, her work.

Her work, her work.

In the best company she could ever imagine.

For the best cause she could ever imagine.

Just another day in paradise, just another day in _utopia._

Humming an unknown melody, Mae left her apartment.

* * *

Something did not feel quite right.

When you loved someone or something _passionately,_ it was only natural to show it properly, so thought Mae. But what was the most appropriate way? Maybe if she pronounced _The Circle_ correctly, in some sort of special way, even in her thoughts. Mae closed her eyes, started to visualize the word as an image in the darkness in her mind. Focusing strongly on the syllables, the vocals, emphasizing them more and more until her head hurt.

Then finally, she found the answer to the unspoken question:

_T H E C I R C L E_

_[ð_ _ə_ _ˈ_ _s_ _əː_ _(r)kl]._

Mae opened her eyes and was happy again.

* * *

Mae was born in an ordinary family in an ordinary town where she was visiting an ordinary school, had met ordinary friends; overall, she had lived an ordinary life back then. Painful, it was so painful to even think about it!

This silent emptiness which the ordinary woman had not noticed until the day _TruYou_ and with it

_T H E C I R C L E_

_[ð_ _ə_ _ˈ_ _s_ _əː_ _(r)kl]_

were invented and formed.

By the time Mae arrived the downtown area, the sky had already turned gray; an armada of clouds had covered the morning sun, letting no light pass through and so transforming the skyscrapers, the bakeries, the shopping malls into dark blocks which grew so confusingly tall that they seemed to look down on their citiziens, watching them judgingly.

However, it did not bother Mae. Actually, she ~~had lost her mind long ago~~ was just too happy to be bothered by anything right now. Just humming on her way to work.

A large monitor was attached on a building, it showed a video advertisement by

_T H E C I R C L E_

_[ð_ _ə_ _ˈ_ _s_ _əː_ _(r)kl]._

Ty Gospodinov himself spoke for his company. "Future needs perfection," he said. "Future needs _you._ Be part of an eternal tradition. Be part of humanity's path to new life changing creations. Be part of

_T H E C I R C L E_

_[ð_ _ə_ _ˈ_ _s_ _əː_ _(r)kl]."_

It was as if Mae was sitting under Yggdrasil's tree, representing her beloved saviors, when she had experienced the true revelation of life, when she had achieved wisdom, peace and happiness at once.

It was as if a thin spider thread had shown up in the dark, a little glim of hope she was holding onto, so Mae had begun to climb and climb until she could stretch her hand after Nirwana.

"Sharing is caring. Privacy is theft."

You could easily tell by the mechanic sound of young Gospodinov's voice and the weird stresses of certain words that he was reading everything from a nearby script.

"Find community. Innovate. Create."

But there existed people in this world who did not possess gratitude at all. Who ate the tree's rotten fruits and trampled on the sunside grass, threw carelessly their wisdom, peace and happiness away. Who saw the saving thread, but decided to tear it and fall into the everlasting darkness instead.

Those poor creatures that had lost their humanity, lulled by the rebellious, demonic voices in their heads!

" **Breathe.** "

Trapped in an endless loop, the advertisement started again from the very beginning.

"Future is perfection..."

* * *

A strange event occured during Mae's walk: A noisy crowd had gathered around an old apartment as if something had happened there. Out of curiosity, she came closer. A police car whose blue light almost blinded Mae in this monochrome environment was parked in front of this building.

Suddenly, a hoarse voice screamed, "You can't arrest me! You can't!" In the next moment, an unkempt middle-aged man was guided forcefully by two policemen to the car.

"Resistance is futile," one of them declared.

"What happened here?" Mae asked another passerby.

"I've heard he tried to hack TruYou accounts," they explained.

"Let me go!" the criminal shouted, white foam dripping out of his mouth.

"Hilarious, isn't he?" the passerby commented, snorting.

Although the suspect gave up to appeal to the police's mercy, he turned to the whole crowd now. "Can't you see it?! I did nothing wrong! Open your eyes! Open your goddamn eyes!"

"Most likely he will get the death penalty," the passerby whispered.

"Please," the man begged, earning nothing but glares.

"Get in," an officer ordered and tried to push the criminal into the car with the help of his partner.

However, the unexpected happened: The criminal managed to gather enough strength to escape their fangs for a brief moment, ran towards the crowd that scattered immediatly, opening a path for him.

"Can't you see it?!" he yelled. "Why can't you just-"

He stopped when he saw the crowd slowly surrounding him, doing limp and hesitant movements.

Faceless.

They all had lost their faces!

No mouths to tell their names, no eyes to see the truth.

Shells.

He ran away in fear, but bumped accidentally into Mae. Desperate, the man grabbed both of her arms, seeking her help. This brief spark of hope in his blue eyes lasted only for a second until he realized it. "No, you're just like them."

After the criminal had released Mae, he continued his escape to freedom. In vain.

Loud voices coming from the police, a foolish attempt to flee, one, two, three gunshots and everything ended.

For a while the crowd stood still to stare at his body, but walked away eventually. Mae, whose watch told her it was not much time left, walked away too.

Humming, just humming an unknown melody.

* * *

Later in the day a tiny piece of paper, lying lonely on a desk, was found by a co-worker named __________ _______.

_"After I arrived at work - Mae Holland_

_Roses are red, but violets are blue,_

_we accomplished world peace thanks to TruYou._

_Roses are red, but violets are blue,_

_follow us now and you'll be happy too._

_Clouds are dark gray and hopes are brown,_

_these failures_ _need to shutdown, down,_ _down._

_Violets were blue, but roses were_ _**red red red,** _

_and the sinners whom_

_T H E C I R C L E_

_[ju_ _ːˈ_ _t_ _əʊ_ _p_ _ɪə_ _]_

_saw as a threat,_

_were all later found ----."_

Because the last word was written in such a funny and lighthearted way, __________ _______ laughed out loud.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to what I call my "post-edgy, post-horror phase". While I still appreciate some storytelling elements in it, the story's also become a big "eeeeeeeeeeh" to me by now, huehuehue. There were also some spelling and grammar mistakes I had to correct after the fact.  
> Although it's quite embarrassing to share this old story now, I thought it might also be funny for those who are interested. Honestly, I can hardly remember what my thought process was back then that made me turn the original sci-fi setting into psychological horror. Really, it's probably just me being really fascinated by that genre; I used to love writing bizarre poems or stories like these a lot when I was 15 up until age 18 approximately.
> 
> Anyways, I shall return the silly UT fandom now; new chapters are waiting for me~ Have a nice day~


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